


Eliot's Last Beer

by lucian



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucian/pseuds/lucian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did you - is that my last beer?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eliot's Last Beer

"Did you - is that my beer? My _last_ beer?" When Eliot slams the refrigerator door, Nate knows he's in a shitload of trouble.

Nate freezes with the bottle halfway to his lips. "I didn't realize - sorry, Eliot."

Eliot's nostrils flare, and Nate remembers the year he watched the Running of the Bulls in Spain - seeing a man disemboweled in the street is a one-time-only experience.

"You're _sorry?_ Did you see another beer in there?"

"No - "

"So when I called and specifically asked if there was anything I should bring home, it didn't occur to you to mention the beer?"

"I - "

"I've spent all damned day in a hot kitchen looking forward to watching the game and relaxing with a cold beer - the last bottle, may I add, of my awesome winter brew that Hardison fucking _lost_ the goddamned _recipe_ for."

Nate's eyes go a little wide. "I'm sorry. I really am. If I'd realized, I would have said something. Why don't you go turn on the game and I'll go pick up a growler of the new batch?"

Eliot's mouth is tight and he takes a slow breath like he realizes he's being a little unreasonable. Then his lip curls into a smile that can only be described as vicious. Nate can't help the spike of adrenaline that floods his body: it's moments like these that remind Nate that Eliot's violence isn't just for defense, it's an inherent part of who he is.

"No," Eliot says quietly. "You know what? No. Since _you_ drank my beer, _you_ can relax me. Better get a pillow. You're gonna be on your knees for a while."

Nate swallows hard.

When he gets back to the living room, the game is up loud and Eliot's lounging across the couch, idly playing with his cock. It's a little heavy, but not hard by any means.

"The hell are you waiting for?"

Apparently Eliot's serious. The pub must have been busy today.

Nate drops his pillow on the floor in front of Eliot and falls to his knees, reaching for Eliot's cock.

"No hands."

Nate wraps his fingers around Eliot's strong thighs instead and starts to lick, to get Eliot hard before he swallows him down, when Eliot grabs a fistful of his hair.

"That beer was gonna last me the whole game. So will you. Just hold me in your mouth 'til I say."

Eliot can be demanding and controlling, sure, especially during sex, but this is flirting with humiliating.

Nate's hard as hell.

It's everything Nate can do not to lick and suck: going down on Eliot is one of his favorite things. He can't help but swallow occasionally, and though Eliot doesn't say anything, he tugs roughly on Nate's hair every time.

Nate doesn't know how Eliot stays nearly soft through the whole first period. He feels utterly used on his knees doing nothing but warming Eliot's cock while Eliot ignores him in favor of the game, but he can't deny how goddamned hot it makes him.

"Just suckle," Eliot growls at intermission.

It's a relief for Nate to finally be allowed to use his mouth: makes him groan deep in his chest as he works his tongue and his throat in subtle motions. Eliot's hard in a minute flat.

When intermission's over - and fuck if it isn't the shortest one on record - Eliot says, "Don't touch my dick. Just suck my balls."

If Nate has ever forgotten that Eliot has a sadistic streak, he is violently reminded now.

Nate throws himself into bathing Eliot with his tongue, sucking each testicle into his mouth and rolling them softly. Eliot keeps his eyes on the game, but though he's clearly trying to keep quiet, he can't seem to help the grunts and sighs that escape. Nate works them with long, slow licks and quick flicks until Eliot's soaked with spit and Nate's lips are swollen.

At the next intermission, Eliot kicks off his pants, leans up against the arm of the couch, and snaps, "Get up here."

Nate stretches his knees out as he stands, grateful for Eliot's insistence on buying a couch with cushions thick enough to double as a bed.

Eliot drops his legs apart and says, "Suck me. Slow it down," he says when Nate dives in like Eliot's dick is his last meal. He desperately needs to get his hand on his own cock, but the second his hand leaves Eliot's thigh, Eliot growls, "Don't you fucking dare."

Fifteen minutes of teasing licks and slow, deep strokes have Eliot trembling and gasping beneath him, and Nate's not far behind, despite the ache in his jaw.

"Stop," Eliot says breathlessly, and Nate _knows_ he's about to come. Eliot has stamina - _fuck_ does he have stamina - but this has got to be as much punishment for him as it is for Nate.

Eliot throws one leg over the back of the couch with a wicked smirk. "Eat me out, Nate."

Nate can't help the desperate whimper that escapes as he shifts into position. Eliot strokes his head gently as he does, and there it is - Eliot's not mad anymore.

"Oh god - _fuck!_ " he hisses as Nate licks in broad stripes over the tight furl of skin; can't help but grind down onto his mouth as Nate slips his tongue inside. He keeps it up as the game continues, sliding his fingers through Nate's hair as he pushes back against his mouth in long, sultry undulations.

When the final buzzer goes off, Eliot grabs Nate's head and stuffs his cock in Nate's mouth: thrusts deep and hard a dozen times.

"Oh, fuck!" Eliot groans. "Touch yourself - I want you to come while you're sucking my dick." Nate rips the button of his slacks open and the zipper gets stuck halfway down, but he jams his hand in anyway and fists himself hard and fast as Eliot's body starts to shake.

"Fuck, Nate, fuck - I'm gonna - " and Nate comes as Eliot floods his mouth with a low cry.

He rests his head on Eliot's stomach as he comes down; listens to Eliot's breathing slow with his own.

"You fucker," Eliot growls, but it's more resigned than angry. "You fucking did that on _purpose_."

Nate chuckles against his knee. "You're magnificent when you're pissed off, Eliot."

"You could have just asked."

"It's not the same."

Eliot sighs, somewhere between amused and exasperated. "I really liked that beer."

"You know, I wouldn't be surprised if Hardison finds the recipe this weekend."

There's a long pause. Nate doesn't bother to hide his smile.

"Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"You're an _asshole_."


End file.
